


Research

by wocket



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Drunken Flirting, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 07:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21070892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: If Charley doesn't stop getting distracted by Peter Vincent in the middle of his research, he's vampire bait for sure.





	Research

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal in September 2011. Edited for AO3 in October 2019.

Charley has been awake for a lengthy stretch of time that's beginning to border on painful. His eyes are red, raw around the edges, and everything he looks at is filtered through a sleepy haze. 

Charley's been staring at Peter Vincent's face on his stupid website for too many hours now, for way too long, and his mind is starts wander.

He'd been lying when he told Amy that he'd been looking at porn, but he hadn't meant anything by it. It was just a way to get her to leave him alone so she wouldn’t ask too many questions about what he was doing. Lying to her hadn't been Charley's first choice, and it didn't feel very good, but it was the option that made the most sense and besides, it was totally off the mark. There wasn't anything sexual about Peter Vincent's website. There wasn't even anything sexual about Peter Vincent.

Charley rubs his eyes and takes another look at the photo of Peter Vincent on his screen. Long leather coat draped on a wiry frame, tattoos scattered across fair skin, bare chest with dangling necklaces leading the eye downward, down to low-cut — _very low-cut_, Charley gulps — trousers that are very, very tight around slim hips. Okay, maybe there's something a little sexual about all the promotional materials featuring photographs of the magician. Maybe something a lot sexual.

The lack of sleep is starting to pierce his brain. That's the only explanation. 

Charley closes his eyes, the image of a smirking Peter Vincent burned onto the back of his eyelids. He thinks about his tattoos, the dark ink on pale skin. Charley wonders if there are any hidden underneath that coat. 

Something in the back of his throat starts to tighten. Charley reaches a hand down to shamefully adjust his jeans, which are getting tighter, much to his dismay. He opens his eyes and shakes his head a little, trying to clear his mind. Hand still lingering against the front of his zipper, his eyes land back on the picture of Peter Vincent. _Fuck._

Charley swallows and his eyes drift shut again. Hand flat against his zipper, he moves it across the front of his jeans absent-mindedly. He wonders how many girls Peter Vincent has slept with. He wonders how many women Peter Vincent has been on his knees for, and oh - Charley's cock seems to like that thought, when it springs up a little livelier underneath his palm.

Charley pictures Peter Vincent kneeling down in front of a gorgeous busty blonde - nice big tits, red lips, and clothing - well, there's not much of it. He imagines the man sliding a hand up her leg, nice and slow, and leaning forward, and then — and then, all of a sudden, the angle changes in Charley's very tired mind and it's Peter Vincent looking up at _him_. Charley jolts a little, breath catching in his throat, but his cock is starting to get uncomfortable, straining against his jeans like that, so he goes with it.

In his mind’s eye, he sees Peter lick his lips, and it is filthy. Pornographic. He sees Peter move forward and place a hand on the front of Charley's jeans, providing a little pressure, and then he places his mouth where his hand was and Charley hears him murmur “Let me take care of you."

This just about does it. Charley unbuttons his jeans and slides his hand in, freeing his cock from the fabric. He bites his lip and thinks of Peter slowly pulling down his jeans, still on his knees in front of Charley. Slow and suspenseful, there is no illusion here. Charley imagines Peter putting his mouth on his cock, and he lets out a strangled whimper as he starts to stroke himself, one fist wrapped around his dick.

Charley moves his hand faster as he thinks about Peter sucking his cock like a pro (not like he would know, though, he's still a virgin and there's no shortage of people to remind him of this unfortunate fact). He thinks about Peter using his teeth, just barely grazing his sensitive skin, and then he supposes what it would look like as Peter looked up at him, devilish eyes lined in black makeup, smirking with Charley's cock in his mouth. He supposes it would look pretty damn good.

Charley leans his head back and thinks of Peter slowly pulling his lips off of him, winking and purring "come for me," and then sucking him down all the way, mouth wrapped completely around his cock, and okay, maybe that's a little cheesy, but it works. Charley loses control, eyelids fluttering, letting out a tiny groan when he comes. He gasps for breath, slowly sucking in air.

Charley wipes his hand on his jeans and opens his eyes, a little ashamed of himself. Peter Vincent's picture is still on the screen, staring at him — sneering and judging, more like it.

Charley frowns and exits out of the window.

*

The kid spends more and more time with Peter, trying to learn everything he knows.

"If the vampire is on fire, how do I get close enough to stake him?"

Peter thinks it over for a moment. "Fuck." Fuck this because it's a stupid idea, and fuck this because it's his idea and he's got a funny sinking feeling in his stomach that he's not going to let Charley Brewster walk out that door tonight.

"Yeah." Charley nods a little, and starts to turn, getting ready to leave again. Peter steps forward.

"Don't…"

Charley pauses in the doorway and turns to look back at Peter. "Don't what?"

"You don't have to go."

"You want me to stay?" Charley asks, confused. Peter looks at the floor, then up at Charley.

"You're going to need a hell of a lot of help before you're ready to face the big, bad… Jerry."

"And you… want to help?"

"I don't see anyone else volunteering." Yup, there Peter goes. Getting himself into something way out of his element, yet again.

"Okay," Charley agrees, a pleased smile playing on his face. Peter's change of heart has impressed him visibly. He lets his bag drop to the ground.

"Stop grinning like an idiot. This isn't a slumber party," he says, mocking Charley, if only because it gives him something else to focus on. "You'll need a list of supplies."

Charley starts to pull out the list of vampire-hunting weaponry that he found in Ed's room from his pocket. "I have a —" 

"But first, I need a drink."

Peter makes his way over to the bar. Charley hovers by the doorway. Peter motions him over.

Peter pours a glass of Midori for himself and offers some to Charley. He declines, but Peter pours him a glass anyway. "I won't tell," Peter says, taking a sip. 

Charley dubiously does the same.

"That's disgusting," Charley says, sputtering and frowning. "How can you drink that stuff?" Peter laughs, smiling a real, genuine smile at Charley. It's so genuine it almost feels unbelievable. It's been a while since he's been this… chipper in someone else's company. Peter steals the glass and downs the rest of it.

Peter starts searching for anything else that might be slightly more acceptable to Charley's palate, but the prospects look bleak. 

"Picky little brat."

*

Hours later, Peter and Charley are sprawled across the floor of Peter’s apartment. There are papers everywhere - Charley's pictures and research, as well as some of Peter's own. They've got maps and diagrams and notes spread between them.

Dawn is approaching, tiny bits of sunlight starting to creep up over the horizon, edging their way into view. Charley yawns and rubs at his eyes. "I guess it's later than I thought," he comments.

"Early," Peter corrects him. An empty bottle of Midori sits next to him on the floor. 

"I guess I should be headed home, huh? Get some sleep while I can," Charley ventures, getting on his knees to collect his things. He blearily gathers up his belongings.

"You could stay," Peter says, low and gruff. Charley looks up, caught unaware. He grins.

Peter stares at him, and there's something about his dark-rimmed eyes that sets Charley just a little on edge when he looks at him like that.

Peter rubs a hand over his face, then slinks forward, mirroring Charley's position on the floor. He reaches his hand out, and it shakes a little nervously. He brings it to rest on Charley's jaw. Peter pulls Charley's face toward him ever so slightly and leans his own head forward, and as creeping as the sunrise, he captures Charley's lips with his own.

Charley's hands dart forward and wind themselves in Peter's shirt. Peter brings his other hand up, trapping Charley's face between his palms. The kiss is open-mouthed and slow, and not at all what Charley would expect from Peter Vincent, but there's an insistency to it that tugs at his skin.

Peter ungracefully slides backwards, his ass landing hard on the floor, his back pressed against a black armchair. He drags Charley with him, and Charley falls on top of him grinning, straddling Peter and kissing him again with a youthful greed.

Peter starts to move his hands up and down Charley's sides, and they find a spot to hover right above Charley's ass, almost touching but not quite. Charley makes a cheerful little noise into Peter's mouth, and fuck, if that isn't endearing.

What's even more endearing is when Charley starts to grind his hips against Peter's, and he can't tell if it's on purpose or if he's just getting carried away.

"You're ravenous, aren't you," Peter murmurs into Charley's mouth, and Charley pulls away, disentangling himself from Peter. Self-consciously, he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Sorry. I didn't mean —"

Peter catches his hand. "Relax. That's a good thing, sweetheart," Peter says, flashing a dazzling smile at Charley. 

Charley starts to blush and scoots closer. Peter wraps an arm around Charley's shoulder and pulls him against his side, leaning down to steal a quick peck before settling back and staring outside the large window at the slowly rising sun.

Charley settles his head against Peter's shoulder. "Thanks," he says quietly. Peter just squeezes him a little tighter while they look out at the dawn together.

"This is so cool," Charley says breathlessly at the vista, lifting his head when the sun starts to rise over the skyline. It’s an impressive presentation. He looks up at Peter knowingly. "I bet a lot of girls get to enjoy this view, huh?" 

Peter swallows. "No, not really. Less than you'd think, anyway."

Something about this must have appeased Charley, because he drops his head back onto Peter's shoulder. 

"I'm going to be so tired tomorrow," Charley says, yawning. "I've still got school." Peter brings a hand up and runs his fingers through Charley's curly hair, a cozy gesture.

"You could skip," Peter suggests.

"You're such a bad influence on me," Charley smiles. 

Peter grimaces, invisible guilt roiling up inside him. "Don't say that.”

"Maybe it's a good thing,” he answers, recalling Peter’s earlier words. Charley licks his lips and leans forward tentatively, initiating another brief kiss. "Sweetheart," he adds, mimicking Peter's accent and snickering. 

Peter growls and tackles him enthusiastically. Charley laughs, breathless, when Peter lands on top of him, knocking the air from his lungs. "You'll pay for that," Peter threatens, smothering Charley's face with tiny pecks of kisses. Charley closes his eyes and scrunches up his face. 

"Get off," Charley snorts, pushing at Peter's chest. Peter goes limp on top of him, letting his dead weight keep Charley pressed to the floor. 

"Actually, I think I'm ready for bed." Peter feigns falling asleep, complete with snores. Charley pokes him in the cheek and gives up on struggling. He slides an arm around Peter's waist, his thumb brushing against bare skin where Peter's shirt has ridden up. They shiver simultaneously. Bravely, Charley moves his palm flat against the skin and keeps it there.

"Mm," Peter murmurs, quite lively for a sleeping man. Charley angles his head up and presses a deep kiss against Peter's slack mouth. "Are you trying to wake me?"

"That was the point, yeah." 

Eyes still closed, Peter nuzzles against Charley's neck. "Not working."

"I'll keep trying," Charley says determinedly, and he slides the hand at the small of Peter's back down to his ass and squeezes. Peter yelps and his eyes fly open.

"You're not playing fair," he accuses and Charley smiles innocently.

"So even the odds," Charley says sweetly, and Peter does. He rolls over onto his back, pulling Charley on top of him once again. "This is your way of evening the odds?"

Peter smirks and starts trailing a hand up Charley's thigh. "No. This is." Charley's eyes widen as Peter's fingers creep higher, but he holds still. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Peter murmurs against Charley's ear.

"Trust me, I want to," Charley says, and in one swift unexpectedly eager motion, he pushes Peter away and he pulls his flannel off and his shirt over his head. Peter stares a little bit too hungrily at the sight before him. 

"Fuck," Peter breathes, and tears his own shirt off so quickly that one of his arms gets stuck in the sleeve. Charley helps him out of it before pressing up against him to give him another kiss, practically climbing into his lap. 

Charley is warm, so warm, and Peter lets himself touch him, really touch him, running his hands across his back as he works his tongue into Charley's mouth. Charley has an inescapable natural heat that sends warmth running up and down Peter's nerves. His skin is hot to the touch where he presses up against Peter, which right now, is _everywhere_. He's perched halfway on top of Peter, arms wrapped around his neck. Charley is kissing Peter with an unequivocal need, mouth open and wanting, and it's dead sexy. Peter pulls him closer.

"You make me feel like a horny teenager," Peter says with a glint in his eye. Charley pulls back and grins.

"I am a horny teenager," he retorts. Peter smiles at him with an adoring sort of look and draws Charley's face closer to kiss him, opening up his mouth with his tongue. After a moment, Charley starts to yawn into the kiss. 

"Sorry," he mutters, embarrassed. Peter, in a sudden burst of affection, cuffs the top of his head with his hand.

"Go to sleep," Peter tells him. "We've got all the time in the world. That is, unless you go and get yourself killed by a vampire." He ignores the reality of that very serious possibility, trying to sound as playful as possible.

Charley settles himself so that he's laying on the floor, head in Peter's lap. The sun is still coming up outside the window, beginning to illuminate the room and the city below. 

Charley snickers. "Yeah. I'll try not to."

Peter rubs at his eyes and tugs Charley a little closer, sliding his hand into Charley's curls and letting it rest there against his head. Charley presses his cheek against Peter's thigh and Peter tightens his fingers in Charley's hair, just a little bit possessively.

By the time Peter leans his head back against the chair behind him and closes his eyes, the sun is in the sky and Charley is fast asleep.


End file.
